


The World Could Always Use More Coffee Breaks

by timehopper



Series: Drabble Collections [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Collars, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Injury Recovery, M/M, Massage, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Needles, Oral Sex, Pining, Roleplay, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Walking In On Someone, Werewolf Jesse McCree
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-25 17:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 14,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13839540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: A collection of prompts, drabbles, and requests focusing on the cast of Overwatch. Each "chapter" is tagged with the ship, prompt, and SFW/NSFW.





	1. Hanzo/Werewolf!McCree: Kissing [SFW]

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is just a collection of short, fun fics made by request that I don't feel are long enough to be published on their own. Every story will be labelled in the chapter title with ship and prompt, so if there's something in particular you're looking for it hopefully won't be too hard to find!
> 
> About the name of the collection: I do most of my writing at cafes or on coffee breaks at work or in school. I thought it was cute and fun. :P
> 
> Cheers!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #1 - [ Hanzo/Werewolf!McCree: Kissing | SFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by the lovely [kembrelu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kembrelu/pseuds/kembrelu). Please check out her stuff, it's great!

The first night after a transformation is always the hardest.

When McCree had confided in him that he was a werewolf, Hanzo had known that continuing their relationship would mean making a few adjustments to his daily routine, but he had met the challenge happily and with grace. And quite well, if he were to say so himself.

They’ve been together through more than twenty lunar cycles now. Last night was maybe twenty-one or twenty-two – Hanzo isn’t sure if he should count the one before McCree officially “came out” to him, but it hardly matters; he was ready with a hot cup of tea and a soft blanket as soon as McCree came back to himself, just as always. He’s still under that blanket now, curled up on the couch and watching… Hanzo laughs to himself as he settles down next to him. “A dog show, Jesse? Really?” 

McCree makes a noise somewhere between a whine and a laugh. He sits up and shifts to nuzzle into Hanzo’s neck. It tickles – he’s still much, much hairier than normal, although he looks a lot more human than he had even two hours ago. He doesn’t speak, instead making small contented noises as he kisses Hanzo’s neck. 

“Still no voice?” the archer asks. McCree shakes his head, and Hanzo flinches out of the way with a laugh. McCree knows exactly what that means, so with a far-too-toothy grin, he follows after Hanzo, rubbing his very scruffy beard into the hollow between his neck and collarbone. 

“You brute—!” Hanzo shouts, trying to shove him off, but his harsh words are betrayed by the laughter that breaks up his voice. “Bad dog, bad—”

McCree’s laugh is like a bark, and he pushes Hanzo flat on his back and plants a big, slobbery kiss right on Hanzo’s lips. Hanzo keeps laughing even as he melts into it, hands coming up to wrap around McCree’s neck. They thread in the hair at his nape and tug gently. Jesse shudders and whimpers, and at that, Hanzo opens his eyes. He knows well that sometimes, after a particularly hard transformation, Jesse gets itchy and oversensitive, and not always in a good way. While normally, he loves to take advantage of this, he knows that right now Jesse’s recovery is more important than sex, so he gently presses a hand to his boyfriend’s chest and pushes him up, careful to keep his touch light. 

“Perhaps later,” Hanzo whispers. McCree looks a little crestfallen. “Jesse.” 

McCree tilts his head to the side and hums inquisitively. 

“That did not feel good, did it?” 

After a moment’s hesitation, he shakes his head. Hanzo nods. “I thought not. Come here.” He opens his arms, and Jesse obediently lets himself get wrapped up in them. Hanzo kisses him softly. “There is lots of time for sex,” he says. “For now, we will sit here together and watch your dog show.” 

McCree leans in close, then looks down at Hanzo’s lips. Hanzo chuckles. “Yes. And kiss too, of course.” 

McCree’s fangs glint as he smiles and leans in for a long, lingering kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


	2. Reaper/Sombra: Teasing [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #2 - [ Reaper/Sombra: Teasing | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by [WordsfortheDead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsfortheDead/pseuds/WordsfortheDead), one of my closest friends. He's got some fun stuff up here, so please look him up!

“Not so smart now, are you?” he hissed, looking down her body. A wisp of black smoke curled around her cheek, caressing it, and she leaned into the touch that she could hardly feel, mouth open in a silent plea, desperate. Reaper laughed softly and raised his hand, clawed glove still on, to her neck. Her eyes opened just the tiniest crack. Her mouth closed. He could feel the lump in her throat as she swallowed. 

He tightened his grip. Squeezed. Sombra gasped and arched into it, hands clenching in the sheets below her. He watched as her lips twisted into a pained smile, and then as suddenly as he had squeezed her he let go to watch her fall back to the bed, chest heaving as she caught her breath.

“No, no, no, no,” she pleaded, legs coming up to wrap around his hips. Smoke tendrils leaped to her exposed thighs to pet them. She let out a breath of relief, but it was clear that she wanted more, more; he could feel how wet she was, crotch pressed up against his leg.

The hand at her throat slid up to her lips. He pressed the tip of a clawed finger to them. “Bite,” he told her, and she obeyed him readily, teeth closing around the metal. He slipped the glove off with ease. “Good girl.”

Sombra moaned around the glove still in her mouth, and gazed up at him through her lashes. Beneath his mask, Reaper licked his lips. “So much prettier when you can’t speak,” he whispered.

A tendril of smoke strayed from her thighs to tease at the slit between her legs. Sombra nearly sobbed at the contact. His hand made to follow it, drawing a path with the backs of his nails over her collarbone and down her breast. She jumped when they traced over one of her nipples, when he traced over the swell of her ass. He paused there to palm at it, to squeeze and knead, watching her face for any reaction.

“Please,” she whispered, voice so quiet Reaper had to strain to hear it.

“Please what?” he asked.

“Touch me.” Sombra’s head fell back against the mattress, eyes squeezed shut as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. Reaper laughed.

“Not so smart at all.” But he did as she asked, finger following the smoke as it caressed her slit. His touch was light, too light; any more pressure and he easily could have slipped in. And Sombra did sob this time, high and desperate. She bucked her hips, trying to force more from him, but his free hand held her steadily in place.

“Stay put,” he commanded, and though she glared at him in defiance, Sombra stilled. She watched him, still breathing heavily, as he dug the nail of his glove into the curve of her pelvis. Her entire body tensed, fighting to keep her reaction down, to keep quiet, to resist the urge to pull him onto her.

She learned fast. Or at least knew how to play her part when it was required. He had expected nothing less. “Good girl,” he said again, and without pausing, plunged a finger into her.

Sombra screamed. Her legs tightened around Reaper’s waist, her hands came up to clutch at his cloak. Reaper crooked his finger inside her, stroking her from the inside. “This is what you wanted, right?” he drawled.

“Yeeessss,” Sombra moaned. Her grip tightened as Reaper shoved another finger into her cunt. She cried out and pulled herself closer to him, forcing his fingers in deeper. He continued to curl his fingers, and within seconds she was nothing more than a moaning, whimpering mess.

She tightened around him. She was close – so close. Reaper let out a ragged breath, almost laughing at the sight. Sombra, with her whip-like wit, always ready with something to say, some clever plan, reduced to  _this_. He loved it.

“Ah… Gabe,” she whimpered. “Gabriel, please, I’m close, I’m almost…”

He pulled his fingers out of her. Sombra fell back down onto the bed and threw an arm over her eyes. A ragged groan of frustration tore from her throat: “No, no, no…”

“Don’t call me that,” Reaper hissed. A wisp of smoke slipped inside the folds of her pussy. “Understand?”

Sombra nodded. Reaper smiled beneath his mask.

“Good.” He slipped his fingers back inside her, intent on putting her in her place once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


	3. McCree/Hanzo: Restrained [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #3 - [ McCree/Hanzo: Restrained | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous request on tumblr. This one was actually really fun to write, so if the anon who requested it is out there... thanks!

“You okay there, sugar?” McCree asks, tugging on the rope binding Hanzo to the bed. Hanzo nods silently, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

“I have wanted this for some time now,” he says softly.

“Yeah?” McCree grins as he backs off of his lover to admire the stretch of muscle as Hanzo tugs on his bindings. “Gotta say, I was a little surprised when you asked for this. You get so handsy…”

“It is an exercise in control.”

“Bullshit.” McCree laughs as he straddles Hanzo’s waist. He leans down and kisses along his lover’s jaw, right where his scruff is growing in. “You just don’t wanna admit you have a kinky side.”

“I am perfectly happy to admit it,” Hanzo retorts. “Now hurry up. Or do you plan to make me wait all night?”

McCree chuckles and nips Hanzo’s earlobe, earning him a pleasant hum. “Now, now. I don’t think that’s up to you, is it?” He moves to Hanzo’s neck and bites down, hard. Hanzo bites his lip to stifle a loud moan, only half-successfully. “And for the record, it ain’t an exercise in control if you’re givin’ it up.”

With that, he moves down Hanzo’s body, peppering him with kisses as he goes, from his neck to his chest to his stomach. He stops to leave hickies along the insides of his hips, just skirting the trail of hair leading to his crotch. Hanzo’s breath gets heavier with every press of the lips, every scratch of the teeth, every swipe of the tongue. McCree looks up at his face as he leaves one last mark, and is pleased to see the bright red blush staining Hanzo’s cheeks.

“Look at you. So handsome. And all mine,” McCree teases. He presses a kiss to the darkening bruise he had just left. Hanzo’s cock twitches beside Jesse’s face. He takes it in his flesh hand with a smirk.

“Jesse…” Hanzo whispers, trying to arch into his hold. McCree strokes him slowly.

“I know, I know.” McCree licks his lips and presses a kiss to the leaking tip. “Can’t rush a good thing though, sweetheart.” But he takes Hanzo into his mouth anyway, sucking greedily at the head. Hanzo lets out a ragged breath. McCree can feel him tensing. He delights in it, humming happily around his lover’s cock.

“Jesse!” Hanzo bites down another groan and bucks his hips. McCree uses his metal hand to hold him down, but lowers himself down further, takes Hanzo deeper into his mouth. As soon as he does, Hanzo’s legs lift, and he uses them to try and push Jesse down even further.

But McCree is having none of that tonight. He lifts himself off Hanzo with one hard suck and a light  _pop_. He licks his lips and does his best to muster a glower at his lover. “Don’t make me tie your legs up too.”

Hanzo swallows. The corners of his lips twitch. “Is that a promise?”

McCree can’t suppress the shiver that runs down his body. “Maybe next time.”

Hanzo smirks, but it falls fast when McCree swallows him down in one go. He sucks obscenely, almost hungrily. Hanzo fights his bonds and arches off the bed, face twisted as he tries to fight off his orgasm. McCree strokes the outside of his thigh soothingly. He doesn’t need to speak; the gesture is clear enough:  _Let go, baby. It’s okay. I’m ready._

And Hanzo does, sucking in air between his teeth as he comes in McCree’s mouth. McCree swallows it all down, licking his lips as he pulls away. Hanzo smiles at him and tries to reach out to cup his cheek, momentarily forgetting that his wrists are still tied together. McCree laughs softly and lays next to him on the bed, stroking hair out of his eyes.

“Did you like that, honey?” he asks as he presses a kiss to Hanzo’s temple. Hanzo nods in response, still not quite present.

“Good. But next time, I’m gonna gag you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


	4. McCree/Hanzo: Dirty Talk [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #4 - [ McCree/Hanzo: Dirty Talk | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one for [kembrelu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kembrelu/pseuds/kembrelu)! If you haven't already, check out her stuff! She's got a lot of really good fic. <3
> 
> This was a ton of fun to write... I love dirty talk ahahaha.

“Say it, babe. Tell me how much you want it.”   
  
McCree rolls his hips into Hanzo’s, leans down to nibble at his earlobe. His fingers move steadily in and out of his lover as Hanzo tenses and undulates in turns beneath him. His breaths hiss out from between his teeth in short, harsh bursts. A strangled groan tears itself from his throat when McCree pushes his fingers in to the knuckle in one swift, unforgiving motion. He can feel McCree grin against his neck, wide and toothy.

“What was that?” he asks. “Can’t hear ya.”

Hanzo groans again and throws his head back. “Jesse, please—”

“Please what, Han? Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me, Jesse,” Hanzo says. With everything he has in him, he scoots up, away from McCree. He grabs the cowboy’s hair in his hand and yanks him upward so he can look him in the eye. “I want you to take me. Hard. Fast. Do not be gentle. I want to feel it for  _days._ ”

This time, McCree groans. He pulls his hand out. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Hanzo smirks and bites Jesse’s lip, then lifts his legs to wrap around McCree’s waist. He holds himself up, lifting his hips to pull himself closer to his lover. Jesse’s cock slips between his cheeks and he sighs in pleasure.

“Fine.” McCree almost laughs as he spreads Hanzo’s legs even further apart. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’re gonna get.” He lines himself up, not bothering with lube, and thrusts in to the hilt in one quick motion. Hanzo has been worked enough, and he’s still wet. Besides, he was the one who wanted it rough.

“You okay there, babe?” he asks with a roll of his hips. Hanzo just laughs and pulls him in closer with his feet, still locked behind Jesse’s back.

“I thought you were going to fuck me hard, Jesse,” Hanzo teases. A drop of sweat trickles down his temples and into his beard. Jesse kisses a trail after it.

“So impatient,” he mumbles. Then, right into Hanzo’s ear, he whispers, “Such a  _slut_.”

McCree’s cock twitches in the response to the groan that elicits. He bites the shell of Hanzo’s ear and breathes long and slow into it. “Like that, didn’t ya? Pretty prince of the Shimada… it’s all just a front, ain’t it?” He laughs and pulls almost all the way out, only to slam in again mercilessly. In, out, in, out, faster and faster, without pause. “If only people knew what a dirty fuckin’ whore you are underneath it all. How much you love bein’ – mmh – put in your damn place.”

“Jesse—”

In. Out.

“If they knew how desperate you get—”

Faster. In and out.

“Jesse!”

“How happy you are to beg for my cock. How fuckin’ well you take it. You stretch out so pretty for me, Han—”

Hanzo bites down on the back of his hand. Jesse rams into his prostate, over and over. He’s close, so close. “Jesse, please—”

“My perfect little slut.” In. Out. In. “You love it, don’t you? Love being my—” He bites his lip. In out in out. “—My  _bitch._ ”

And that’s it. Hanzo cries out, legs tightening around McCree’s waist to hold him in place, deep as he can go. McCree comes an instant after, unable to hold out with the way every part of Hanzo clenches down and tightens around him.

He falls onto Hanzo’s chest, not even caring that they’re both now covered in cum. He grins lazily at his lover, and Hanzo smiles back. “Love ya, Han,” he rasps. Hanzo laughs and puts a hand on McCree’s head.

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


	5. McCree/Hanzo: Romantic [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> # 5 - [ McCree/Hanzo: Romantic | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon request that got a little more silly than intended... enjoy anyway? ;P

Candles. Rose petals. Incense. Wine. Silk sheets. All the ingredients for a perfect romantic evening had been set out flawlessly for when Hanzo came back from his mission. Successfully, too: Hanzo had been very impressed, and had responded to the surprise by immediately pulling McCree into a long, slow kiss and leading him over to the bed.

They collapsed onto the bed, McCree on top of Hanzo, lips moving together and tongues pushing past them. Hanzo let out a long, pleased sigh, rolling his hips upward. His hands, somehow unhindered by the bodies they were trapped between, made quick work of the buttons on McCree’s shirt and the knot keeping his own in place. Soon they were both shrugging them off and tossing them away, forgotten in favour of running hands over skin.

McCree kissed a bruise forming on Hanzo’s neck as he slid inside him. Hanzo sighed a long, raspy breath as his lover bottomed out, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of McCree’s eyes. With a small, affectionate smile, he leaned up to kiss his lover deeply and began to roll his hips, forcing the beginning of a slow, gentle rhythm from McCree.

It didn’t last long, however. Hanzo opened his eyes and sat up a little when McCree suddenly slowed his thrusting and eventually stopped completely. “What is it, my love?” Hanzo asked.

“You, uh…” McCree sniffed. “You smell something burning?”

Together, they looked over to the candles on the bedside table. Sure enough, McCree’s shirt was smoking. They dove for it simultaneously, but it was McCree who managed to swipe it off the table, though he ended up knocking over two of the candles in the process. Hanzo managed to catch both of them, one in each hand, just before they hit the floor. He had leaned too far off the edge of the bed, however, and would have fallen off it completely were it not for McCree catching him with his free hand.

Hanzo stared up at McCree above him, one hand on his back to keep him from falling and the other one clutching his shirt stretched far above his head. “Oh. …My hero,” Hanzo said, blurting out the first thought that came to mind at the sight.

And that was it. McCree lasted all of one second before bursting out in laughter, loud and uncontrollable. Hanzo was quick to follow, unable to keep his composure. McCree dropped his shirt on the bed so he could wrap both arms around his boyfriend even as he kept laughing while Hanzo tried to pull himself up, using McCree as an anchor, but both of them were still so unstable from their relentless laughter that all he succeeded in doing was pulling the cowboy down on top of him.

“J-Jesse,” Hanzo gasped, pounding on his lover’s back. “Jesse, I can’t – can’t breathe–!”

“Oh! Sorry, darlin’!” McCree pushed himself up to give Hanzo some space. He shifted back on the bed, pulling out of Hanzo in the process. That tore another peal of laughter from him, and by the time Hanzo had rejoined him on the bed, grabbing a pillow and shoving it in McCree’s face, he was laughing again, too.

“I give, I give,” McCree said as he threw the pillow off of himself. He sat up and leaned into Hanzo. “Now c’mere, you.”

He pressed their lips together softly, suppressing the last of their giggles. Hanzo melted into him, arms coming around McCree’s waist. They fell back down onto the bed, McCree shuffling between Hanzo’s legs to pick up where they left off.

“Are you sure you would not rather just open up that wine?” Hanzo asked.

“Hell no,” McCree said. He poked Hanzo in the chest, earning him another quiet laugh in response. “After nearly burnin’ my best shirt? We’ll just knock it over and ruin the rest of our clothes.”

“Later, then.” Hanzo leaned up again and pecked his lover’s cheek. “I am only teasing, anyway.”

“Like hell you are.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Sure. Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


	6. Genji/Sombra: "Shut up and fuck me" [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #6 - [ Genji/Sombra: "Shut up and fuck me" | Relatively SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing explicit here, but they are *technically* just about to bang. Take that as you will. 
> 
> Another request from [WordsfortheDead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsfortheDead/pseuds/WordsfortheDead).

“And if I told you you had the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen?” His fingers dance up her chest, curl around the strands of hair that tickle her collarbone. She idly hopes it doesn’t catch in the space between his metal joints. 

“Like the sunrise,” he continues, and she rolls her eyes. 

“I’ve always considered myself more of a sunset kind of girl,” Sombra answers sharply, and Genji laughs, just as she knew he would.

“More beautiful than the sunset,” he replies, and Sombra has just about had enough now. Genji opens his mouth again, ready to say something else, but before he can she presses her fingers to his throat and tap, tap, taps his voice away. 

He backs up off her, hand to his throat, and she pounces, knocking him on his back as she climbs on top of him. “You wouldn’t shut up,” she says simply, wiggling her fingers in a mock-wave, “So I decided to shut you up and  _make_  you fuck me.” 

Genji has never been happier to keep quiet in his life. 


	7. McCree/Sombra: In front of a mirror [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #7 - [ McCree/Sombra: In a mirror | NSFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "request" with the prompt "Sex In front of a Mirror." So much fun to write, even with all the new drafts and rewrites I ended up doing.

McCree has never claimed to be a modest man. He knows he’s good with a gun, good with words, and good-looking to boot, but he had never really considered himself to be vain. 

He’s starting to rethink that now, face to face with the image of himself fucking the living daylights out of Sombra in the mirror. 

It had been her idea. “You make the cutest faces when you cum,” she had said conversationally, leaning on one elbow and trailing a finger over the curve of McCree’s hip. Sheets draped over her waist, soft golden glow of cheap motel lamp-light behind her, she had looked like a goddess straight from a renaissance painting. The only thing that ruined the illusion of McCree’s post-coital affection had been the devilish smirk on her face, the one she always wore when she was up to no good -- or had just had some brilliantly filthy idea. 

“Shame I’ll never get to see,” he had said, all too happy to play along. “But knowing you, you’ve got something planned. You gonna share?” 

That had been two nights ago. Now, Sombra braces herself against the wall, one hand on each side of the full-length mirror’s frame. She grins and meets McCree’s gaze in his reflection, arches her back and pushes her ass out to take him in deeper. He watches her face in the mirror - watches her eyes flutter shut, her lips fall open. McCree reaches up with once hand and gropes at her breast, squeezing it and kneading it and watching her whole body as he does it: the way she tenses, the way she undulates, the way she licks her lips. 

He slams into her, hips jerking sharply. He can see himself moving in and out of her, the slide of his dick in and out as she jolts and rolls her hips. It’s different, somehow; seeing everything happen in front of him and seeing only a bit of himself or of her as he pounds into her are two completely different beasts. If this is what he’s been missing out on, then McCree wonders why they’ve never tried this before. 

He grits his teeth and his head falls and hangs forward, forcing his eyes away from his reflection. He feels Sombra laugh, vibrating against his chest, and he thrusts forward again. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he half-mumbles, all in one breath, so fast he isn’t even sure he had managed to get all the words out. But they’re true; she really does feel amazing. This angle is perfect: he likes it best from behind, and he knows she does too -- she’s always so deliciously loud when he finds just the right angle -- 

And there it is. She cries out and throws her head back, clamping down around him. McCree grips her hips and pushes and pulls her roughly, chasing his own end. Sombra slumps and looks into the mirror, catching McCree's eye in it, a slack smile playing over her lips, eyelids drooping with satisfaction.

He grabs her hair and pulls it, as he slams into her again and again, forcing her to watch herself in the mirror as she comes for the second time. She's shaking and he knows her well enough by now to know she's not nearly finished yet. He grins and leans forward, crowding over her back, and kisses her cheek sloppily. “You ready for me, babe?” he croons, low and gravelly. She just laughs. 

“Always,” she pants. “Now watch me.”

And he does. They both look in the mirror as McCree comes, pulling out and finishing between Sombra's thighs, splashing the surface of the mirror with the last few drops of his release. 

And if he ends up watching himself a little bit as he cums, Sombra doesn't have to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	8. Genji/Lucio: Getting walked in on [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #8 - [ Genji/Lucio: "It's not what it looks like" | NSFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [Kestrel_Sama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrel_sama/pseuds/Kestrel_sama)'s prompt request: "It's not what it looks like" for Gencio.
> 
> First time writing Gencio eheheh. Here ya go!

Since joining Overwatch, Lúcio has seen more than his fair share of weird, inappropriate shit: Mei in the research lab, talking to her plants and hugging them when she tells them a sad story; Winston struggling with a peanut butter jar and getting frustrated enough to just bite the entire top half of the jar off; Reinhardt singing in the shower - not the public showers, but his own private shower, because for some reason he didn’t think to close the door to his own room  _or_  the bathroom.

But nothing could have prepared him for this.

He can hear the music pulsing from Genji’s room.  _His_  music. Lúcio knows Genji’s into his albums - it was what started their first conversation (Genji had been adorably starstruck) and later paved the way for their… courtship, or whatever it was they had going. It was far from a relationship, but Lúcio had a feeling that was the direction they both wanted this to go in.

So, hearing his music coming from Genji’s room, he had figured he might as well go say hi, thanks for listening, and maybe show him something new he was working on. Instead, he gets an eyeful of Genji, splayed out flat on his bed, legs spread wide and cock hard and leaking in his hand.

Immediately, Lúcio knows he should turn tail and run before Genji notices him, but he’s frozen in place, and Genji’s reflexes and reaction time are too quick: a shuriken comes flying at his head and only misses by a hair. Lúcio holds up his hands and backs up a step. “Hey hey, it’s just me–”

Genji untenses and flops down on the bed. He makes no move to cover himself up, so Lúcio has to look away, partly out of respect for Genji and partly because  _holy shit, Genji’s got a nice package._

“Lúcio,” Genji says, breathless from the shock of being walked in on. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you knock?!”

“Why didn’t  _you_  lock the door?” Lúcio shoots back, voice a way higher pitch than he’s comfortable with. He can feel his face burning. 

“…Touché.” Genji sighs heavily. There’s an awkward silence between them then, the loud pulsing music only serving to emphasize it. Lúcio shifts on the balls of his feet, wondering if he should just leave, pretend like he never saw anything and like watching Genji masturbate doesn’t make him want to run to his room and beat himself off to the memory–

Until Genji waves him over. “Come here,” he says. Lúcio is painfully aware that Genji  _still_ hasn’t covered up yet as he shuffles over. When he reaches the side of the bed Genji pulls him down to sit and gives him a bright, if sheepish, smile.

“By the way,” he says. “This isn’t what it looks like.” 

Lúcio can’t help but laugh. “You mean I didn’t just catch you getting off to my tunes?” A pause and an absolutely shit-eating grin. “Beating off to my beats?”

Genji laughs and playfully smacks his arm. “Okay, maybe it was. The bass… it feels good, you know?”

He doesn’t. At least not the way Genji means. “Not really.”

With another laugh and a move too fluid not to be practiced (damn ninja), Genji pulls Lúcio down to the bed and pins him down, one leg on either side of his waist. He feels Genji’s breath against his lips as the cyborg leans down to get in his space.

“Shall I show you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	9. McCree/Symmetra: Massage [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #9 - [ McCree/Symmetra: Massage | SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For dareperks with the prompt request: "Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?" for SymMcCree.
> 
> Side note: SymMcCree is an amazing ship name and I'm so glad that's what it's called.

Symmetra sits at one of the tables in the Watchpoint’s workshop tinkering with a flashbang when the door opens. The owner of the flashbang strides up to her and takes a seat on the stool next to her, leaning in to take a look at what she’s working on. Symmetra pulls away out of habit.

“How’s it going?” McCree asks, eagerly looking for any sign of difference in his old flashbang. Without so much as changing her expression, Symmetra tosses it over her shoulder and it bursts, a flock of hard-light birds flying from the point of impact in addition to the bright flash of light.

McCree whistles lowly. “Damn. Even fancier than I was expectin’. And that’s sayin’ a lot, considering.”

“Considering what?” Symmetra asks snidely, not sure yet if she should be offended but assuming she should be. She sits up a little bit straighter and then suddenly hisses as a sudden flash of pain tears through her shoulder.

“Whoa, hey,” McCree says, holding his arms out as if to catch her.  Symmetra glares and rubs at her shoulder. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She takes a deep breath and tries to right herself, like she hadn’t just suffered something as undignified as a cramp. But she catches the look of concern in McCree’s eye and softens a little bit - he didn’t mean to offend. “It’s nothing I haven’t felt before.”

McCree looks at her, brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Right. Well, if you want, I could…  Do you…well…I mean…I could give you a massage?”

The delivery is lame at best, and normally Symmetra would be appalled at the suggestion. But something about McCree is warm and welcoming, and she feels vulnerable for a moment.  _No_ , she tells herself. She shouldn’t–

“It’s the least I can do,” McCree persists. “Seein’ as you’re helping me out with these flashbangs. Combining them with your hard light was a hell of an idea, and…” He trails off and shrugs. “I dunno. Just thought I’d return the favour somehow.”

Symmetra looks torn for a moment. She bites her lip, looking from McCree’s face, earnest and kind and concerned, to his hands, strong and calloused and rough. She’s surprised to realize that she  _wants_  his hands on her.

It’s not the first time she’s wanted something like this, but the feeling is still foreign. It must register on her face, because soon McCree is backing off. “If you don’t want it, it’s fine,” he says, and it really is - his voice holds no tone of malice or hurt in it. “Just thought I’d offer. You seem awfully tense.”

Symmetra swallows. “Very well,” she says, like she’s the one doing him a favour. She’s almost ashamed of her imperious tone, but McCree takes so offense at all; he just grins and motions with one finger for her to turn around in her seat.

She does, and pulls her hair over her shoulder for good measure to keep it out of McCree’s way. She hears his faint laugh behind her and feels him lean forward, two hands - one soft flesh, the other cool metal (just like hers, but so, so different) - resting on her shoulders.

McCree squeezes, gently at first, reassuringly. Symmetra tenses, but she doesn’t tell him to stop. After a few seconds, he continues on, slowly.

And she melts into it. She closes her eyes and leans into his touch, sighing as he kneads away the knots. It’s shockingly and frighteningly easy to lose herself, but even more frightening is how much she doesn’t mind it. How much she actually  _likes_  this.

McCree’s hands slip down a little further, down to her shoulderblades. He grunts a little bit, more curious than troubled. Symmetra still asks, “What is it?”

“You’re tenser than I thought,” he says simply, and sure enough she can feel the knots more prominently now that he’s trying to rub them away. 

It’s not as easy through the fabric of her dress, but McCree manages to do just fine anyway. He pulls his hands away and flexes his fingers. Symmetra can hear the quiet crackling of his joints, like he’s applied uncomfortable pressure to them for far too long. She supposes he has - it’s been quite a while since he started.

It’s silent between them for a moment. She turns her head to see McCree still smiling at her, but there’s something different in his eyes. Something like satisfaction, or affection…

She’s leaning in before she can even think about it, eyes slipping shut as she presses her lips against his. Symmetra marvels in the way McCree’s beard scratches against her skin, like it’s setting off sparks.

McCree exhales through his nose and lifts a hand to her hair, running through it gently, like he’s afraid to touch it. But when Symmetra doesn’t protest, he puts it to the back of her head and holds her there, just lightly enough she knows she can pull away if she’s uncomfortable.

But she isn’t, and she doesn’t want to.

The kiss remains chaste, and McCree is the one to pull away first. He looks awestruck, like stars are dancing in his eyes. Symmetra wonders if she looks anything the same.

McCree smiles. Symmetra takes his hand, one synthetic hand in another.

They lean in again at the same time, in perfect sync.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	10. McCree/Mercy: Wounded [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #10 - [ McCree/Mercy: Wounded | SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous on Tumblr requested: "You heard me. Take. It. Off." for McMercy. 
> 
> I went in wanting to do something sexy, but it just turned into fluff... I actually like this ship a lot and would love to write smut for it eventually...! This one just got away from me. \\\\\ >w< ///
> 
> (This is where the "needle" tag comes in for those of you like me with a fear of syringes/injections. No insertion or injection is described, but there is mention of a needle.)

There’s a reason McCree wears body armour. It’s not just because it’s flashy and makes him look more badass, or because back in the day Reyes forced him to - it also has its practical purpose of keeping his insides in and bullets out.

Normally, anyway.

Mercy stares at him, hands on her hips and a deep frown creasing her brow. McCree looks back at her sheepishly, holding a hand to his side where his body armour is splintered and broken away. Mercy just sighs and shakes her head before stepping closer to him, crouching down, and lifting his hand away.

There’s a short moment where she holds his hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb, and in that moment McCree feels nothing but regret. She’s touching him, feeling him now, alive and well. She must have been so worried.

“Angie, I–”

“Quiet, McCree,” Angela says. She pulls her hand away from his, all business once again. They’re doctor and patient now, not lovers worried about one another.

A quick look and she pulls away again to rifle through a medical cabinet. “Shirt off, please,” she says without looking at him.

Knowing he’s in the dog house already, McCree figures now’s as good a time as any to crack a joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Right now? Angie, I know we’ve got the room to ourselves and I’m one handsome devil even at my worst, but I’m kinda bleedin’ here. Can it wait?” 

With a long-suffering sigh, Angela turns around. In her hand is one of the biggest needles McCree has ever seen in his life. Between that and the near-murderous look on his girlfriend’s face, McCree doesn’t think he’s ever been more terrified in his entire life. 

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” 

McCree undresses in record speed.

* * *

With sweet painkiller running through his veins, McCree sits up in in his bed. Angela kneels beside him, pressing a warm, damp towel to the stitches in his side. When she stands, her look is one of pure affection.

Until it turns to something else.

Angela pulls the hem of her shirt free from her skirt. She shimmies the skirt down her hips and steps out of it, movement carefully graceful, at the same time she begins to undo her blouse. She opens it up slowly, one button at a time, until finally it falls open and reveals the lacy bra beneath it.

Goodbye doctor, hello nurse. 

Angela climbs on to the bed, swinging one leg over McCree’s waist and leaning down until her lips are only an inch and a half away from McCree’s. He smiles and reaches up to cup the back of her head. 

“Trying to take advantage of me while I’m injured?” McCree asks. To his delight, Angela laughs.

“Of course not. I just thought I would try to ease the pain some more.”

“You sayin’ you got even more painkillers for me?” 

That earns him a playful slap on the top of his head. “Do you ever shut up?” Angela asks, but her tone says she already knows the answer.

“Nope. Guess you’re just gonna have to make me.” He leans in at the same time she does. Their kiss is slow, gentle, and sweet, but there’s some fire behind it, and McCree wants more. He deepens the kiss, just slightly, running his tongue along Mercy’s bottom lip. He angles himself to push in further–

And winces, the stitches pulling tight with the movement.

“Are you alright?” Angela asks, pulling away with a start. She leans over to inspect Jesse’s stitches, to make sure they haven’t torn and started bleeding, but finds nothing. McCree smiles and strokes his girlfriend’s hair lovingly. 

“Still worried about me?” he asks. 

Angela tries to give him a sheepish smile, but falls just short. “I can’t help it,” she says. “You’re lucky that’s all the injury you sustained. That armour saved your life, you know.”

“I know. And I’ll be grateful for it every day I get to spend with you,” McCree says. He coaxes Angela off of him and shuffles in the bed so they can lie down next to one another. 

Angela pouts, reaching out to caress Jesse’s cheek. “We can pick up where we left off when I’m a little more healed,” he assures her. “But for now, how about a movie?” 

His heart skips a beat at Angela’s smile. “Fine. As long as I get to choose this time. Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet though, Jesse.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	11. Ana/Reinhardt: Picnic [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #11 - [ Ana/Reinhardt: Picnic | SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an inbox request for cyborgamazon on tumblr: "Would you be willing to write some canonverse Anahardt fluff? Maybe they go on a picnic in watchpoint gibraltar after the recall" 
> 
> Why yes. Absolutely I would be willing to write that! Anahardt is too sweet.

It had been years since Overwatch had first been recalled. At first, Ana had been hesitant to go back. Her ‘death’ had played no small part in the downfall of Overwatch the first time. She had left her dearest friends to mourn her. She’d left her  _daughter_  to mourn, to think she had been left without a mother.

When she’d met Jack again, it had been easy. She knew along he couldn’t have died in an explosion as small as that, and he’d somehow figured out that she was still alive too. It was easier for a ghost to reveal itself to another ghost.

Everyone else, however, had been a different story.

Fareeha had been mad. So mad she had refused to talk to Ana for months; McCree had also given her the silent treatment, but he knew how to be civil, and he came around once she’d had time to properly explain herself; Lena and Winston had been hurt initially, but were rather nice about it; and Torbjorn… well, if he’d cried, Ana had sworn not to tell anyone.

Reinhardt, though… he had fallen to his knees. Fallen to his knees, taken Ana’s hand to hold it in both his gigantic ones, and cried. She had dropped to the ground too and they had wept together for hours: tears of anger, of sadness, of regret, and tears of joy and relief as well.

But things were fine now. They had made up and agreed to rekindle their relationship from before Ana’s supposed death. It had taken time, but they were finally back in a place where they could both be happy and comfortable with one another.

And where they could go on dates.

Ana waits for Reinhardt at the top of one of the cliffs overlooking Watchpoint: Gibraltar. She can hear his heavy footsteps lumbering up the last few feet of the path, and she can’t help but laugh when he finally reaches her at the top. He’s sweating and breathing in great gusts of air, trying to catch his breath, but the smile on his face says he couldn’t be happier.

“You snipers… and your… haaah… high places. You couldn’t… haaah… have picked… haaah… easier spot… haaah… to get to, my dear?” 

Ana laughs, hiding her grin behind her hand. “This one has the nicest view,” she says. “Are you getting old, Reinhardt?”

“Old? Me? Hah!” Reinhardt’s booming laugh echoes against the rock face. “Of course I am! But I assure you, I’m as fit as ever!”

“Of course.” Ana gives Reinhardt a curtsy that’s just a touch too sarcastic to be genuine, and turns to lead him closer to the edge of the cliff. She sets down the blanket she had carried on her back and sits down on it, patting the spot next to her. Reinhardt follows with a spring in his step, laying the picnic basket down before taking a seat himself. 

Ana gets to work unpacking their lunch. Of course, she pulls out the beer first and hands it to a jovial Reinhardt. The sandwiches come next, then the containers of deli meats and cheeses, followed by a thermos of sauerkraut soup and some hawawshi. Last of all Ana pulls out some small cakes and berries, but sets them aside when she notices Reinhardt’s surreptitious glance at them.

“Ah-ah. Not until you eat the lunch I’ve prepared.”

“And what a lunch it is!” Reinhardt immediately grabs himself a plate from the basket and helps himself to a large helping of… everything. He practically inhales it as he speaks, too, much to Ana’s guilty delight. His manners may not be the best, but there is something beautiful in just how shameless Reinhardt is in his enjoyment of the food.

Ana eats much more slowly. She barely has the time to finish a sandwich and a cup of soup before Reinhardt has finished everything else. It’s only when he reaches for the last piece of hawawshi that he realizes what he’s done.

“Ana!” He cries out, aghast at himself. “Have you had enough to eat?” 

Ana laughs and nods. “Yes,” she says simply. Reinhardt is a large man with an even larger appetite - she would be a fool not to realize how much he would eat. She had packed a little bit extra, but just in case even that wasn’t enough for him, Ana had made sure to eat a small snack before making the trek up the cliff.

She continues, smiling at the look of concern that lingers on her boyfriend’s face. “No need to worry about me. I’m more worried about your appetite.” She pulls out the container of fruit and cakes and waves them tantalizingly before him. “You do still have room for dessert, right?”

* * *

 

Reinhardt had, in fact, had room for dessert.

Once all the food was finished and the dishes packed up, Ana and Reinhardt had moved closer to the cliff’s edge to watch the waves crash against the shore. A massive arm comes around Ana’s waist and she leans against Reinhard’s chest as he holds her.

“I had forgotten how much I missed the views here,” she says, almost a little wistful. “It really is beautiful.” 

“Indeed,” Reinhardt responds, voice low. He leans in and presses a kiss to Ana’s temple, smiling as he pulls her close. “Though not nearly as beautiful as you, my love.” 

Ana smiles and playfully bats Reinhardt’s arm. “Still an insufferable flirt,” she teases; but her voice is soft, and her gaze is warm as she turns to him. Reinhardt gazes back, and at the same time, they lean in and kiss, long and slow and chaste.

“I love you,” Ana whispers against Reinhardt’s lips as she pulls away. 

“And I you.” 

She closes her eyes and leans in for another kiss.

She loves him. He loves her. And she will never again force him to live without her. Ana will never again give this up. Not for anything in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	12. McCree/Sombra: dom!McCree [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #12 - [ McCree/Sombra: Dom!McCree | NSFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous request: “mcsombra smut with dom mccree? so tired of the same old top/femdom stuff.”

McCree has her pinned down to the bed, wrists held against her back with one hand as McCree plows into her from behind. 

She’d had it coming - even Sombra could admit it this time. She’d been teasing McCree relentlessly for weeks, every time they happened to be in the same space. He couldn’t touch her: he was on a mission, and she was supposed to be working a job for Talon. Key word:  _supposed_  to be. It was much more fun to mess with McCree than to do whatever Talon had her assigned to do this time. And it was even more fun when he finally snapped and put her in her place. 

She hadn’t been expecting him to be so  _rough_ , though. But she loves it all the same.

Sombra cries out as McCree grabs her hair in his free hand and pulls, forcing her head up. Sombra moans, the sound cut off by the strain on her throat, but she smiles in spite of it. She breathes in raggedly as McCree slows his pace, choosing instead to grind shallowly inside her. 

Sombra tries to whine. She pushes her hips back to try and take her lover in deeper, but to no avail: McCree pulls away, keeping the same amount of distance between their bodies. 

“You know you gotta ask nice if you want something,” McCree says. He lets go of Sombra’s hair to let her breathe. She does, gulping in air so quickly she gets a little bit dizzy. It’s a wonderful sort of rush. 

McCree slaps her ass and Sombra gasps. He must not be in the mood to wait for her to beg. He pulls out completely when she still doesn’t answer and grinds the tip of his dick against her hole. Sombra presses back, trying to force him back inside, but McCree just spanks her again and she jerks away instinctively. 

“Didn’t hear me?” McCree laughs, like he finds Sombra’s inability to speak amusing. “I said you gotta ask nice if you want something.” 

Wondering if she should tempt fate, Sombra considers not answering for half a second. But when she turns to look over her shoulder, she sees McCree take his own cock in his hand and stroke it slowly. There’s nothing urgent in the motion at all. It’s weird, almost more like he’s teasing her than himself. 

McCree raises an eyebrow. “You want me to do it myself?” he asks, and for a moment Sombra swears she sees red. 

“No,” she says immediately, without even thinking. So much for restraint.

“Then tell me what you want.” 

Sombra glares at him. She sighs in defeat and rolls her hips, reaching back to spread herself open for McCree (not that she needs to - she can already tell she’s gaping for him). “Just fuck me already,” she whines. 

Another smack to her ass, but she can feel McCree poised at her entrance again now - a small victory. “You forgetting something?” 

“Por favor – just fuck me,  _please_!” 

There it is: the magic word. McCree slams back into Sombra and she cries out, clutching the sheets below her as McCree mercilessly plows her pussy. She arches her back, trying to force that perfect angle –

And McCree finds it, just as soon as he slams her back down to the bed. Sombra sees stars and her vision whites out as McCree thrusts into her over and over again, hitting the perfect spot inside her every time. She doesn’t have the air in her to scream as she comes, but it’s obvious all the same: her whole body goes tense and she feels electric shocks fly through her, all the way to the tips of her toes. She gushes around McCree’s dick and he continues to fuck her through her orgasm, pulling a second from her just before he pulls out roughly. Sombra hardly even notices the absence, her orgasm is so overwhelming. But she does, after a few seconds, and she whimpers, pleading for McCree to fill her up again.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls her off the bed. Sombra doesn’t even have time to think before she feels a strong arm around her, tearing her from where she lies against the sheets.

Her knees hit the floor. When she opens her eyes, McCree is standing before her, cock right in her face. He’s jerking himself off, hand moving rapidly, desperately, and Sombra just barely has the presence of mind to open her mouth in time to catch McCree’s orgasm.

Almost none of it gets in her mouth, but there’s something satisfying about that, too. She feels cum splatter against her cheeks, just below her eyes, and she smiles. When no more comes, Sombra’s eyes flutter open. She licks her lips and swallows what little she was able to get in her mouth, then leans back to rest against the bed, still trying to catch her breath.

McCree drops to his knees and sits in front of her, reaching out to wipe some of his cum off his girlfriend’s face. “You look a right mess,” he says, right before he leans in to kiss her. Sombra laughs into it, quietly at first, then even louder when McCree pulls away with smears of makeup and his own jizz on his lips and beard. 

“Yeeugh.” McCree’s nose crinkles as he wipes the cum off his beard. He stands up and offers Sombra a hand. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get cleaned up.” 

Sombra takes the offered hand and McCree pulls her up, only to smack her ass again and pull her close. “And maybe once we’re in the shower, I’ll treat you to round two.” 

She practically drags him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	13. McCree/Hanzo: New Techniques [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #13 - [ McCree/Hanzo: Teaching New Techniques | SFW]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend brought up an idea for in the possible adjustments to McCree were going to be getting down the line: what if he had a ricochet shot? 
> 
> The idea wouldn't leave me alone so I wrote this up quick before bed.

Hanzo has always been able to shoot quickly. He can draw three arrows at a time and shoot them in almost half as many seconds. It’s a neat trick more than anything else; it’s rare he’s in such dire straits he needs to fire them that quickly to begin with, and if he is, he has dragons. He doesn’t even really think about weaponizing this until McCree brings it up one day.

“You know,” he starts, “You could probably hit a lot more a lot faster if you didn’t wait so long between shots.”

Hanzo considers this. Obviously, he knew that, but McCree has a way of saying deep, complex things in very few words. So he gets McCree to demonstrate, and Hanzo goes to bed that night thinking about how McCree was able to take down that many training bots just by fanning the hammer.

He starts practicing more. Drawing more arrows, not waiting between shots, selecting targets further and further apart. Eventually he comes up with Storm Arrow, and when McCree sees it in action for the first time he whistles low and smiles at Hanzo like he’s never seen anyone more amazing in his life.

* * *

 

Eventually Hanzo returns the favour.

McCree is almost famous for making impossible shots. He can tell where someone will be at what exact millisecond, where he needs to stand to get the perfect view of a battlefield, how to shoot the gun right out of an enemy’s hand.

But he still can’t hit through walls.

Hanzo teaches McCree how to get around them. He shows McCree his sonic arrows, but explains that they’re only good for so much. He teaches McCree about the physics of archery and the angles he needs to make some of his shots. He teaches McCree how to calculate some of the more complex angles, too.

Soon McCree is able to do the math in his head as fast, or maybe even faster than Hanzo. He can figure out what his bullets will bounce off of and what they’ll break. And he uses this knowledge, all that he’s taught himself and all that he’s learned from Hanzo, to take out targets around corners by ricocheting his shots off walls and statues and whatever else he can find.

When Hanzo sees this on the battlefield, his jaw drops. McCree sees him and twirl his gun, holstering her with a flourish.

“Simple geometry,” he says, and Hanzo swears his heart skips a beat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	14. Symmetra/Sombra: Face-sitting [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #14 - [ Symmetra/Sombra: Face-sitting | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Kinktober y'all! I love Symbra!
> 
> I won't be posting every day, but this is the list I'm going off of if anyone else is interested in participating: <https://intim3ate.tumblr.com/post/177708532351/kinktober-2018>

Symmetra had never in her life imagined herself doing this.

Everything in her life had always been for Vishkar. Study for Vishkar, travel for Vishkar, further Vishkar's goals and ambitions. It had been a shock to her system, so to speak, when Sombra had shown up at her door and laid bare everything she had ever known. Everything she had been working toward. 

It had taken her a long time to trust Sombra. Even now, she still isn't sure she does. But if there's one thing Sombra has going for her, it's that she has a silver tongue - in all the best possible ways.

Symmetra holds herself above Sombra now, thighs trembling on either side of the hacker's face. She bites down on the back of her hand to keep herself from making too much noise, though they're well past the point of silence now. It's obscene, the noises Sombra makes as she slides her tongue between Symmetra's folds, lapping and - ugh - practically _slurping_ at her clit. It's dirty and filthy and _wrong_ but it feels so, so good, and she knows Sombra knows it.

Symmetra risks a look down. Sombra's eyes are closed and her nose is buried in the dark curls at Symmetra's crotch; she's completely indulged in eating Satya out. It's ridiculously hot, how focused she is on her task, and there's a small part of Satya that knows she shouldn't be nearly as turned on by this as she is, but for once she's able to ignore it. Sombra's just that good.

Sombra's eyes open, little slits of jewel purple, and she rolls those beautiful eyes up to meet Symmetra's. Symmetra isn't quite sure how she's able to tell, but she swears she can feel Sombra smile against her labia. What she knows for sure, though, is that Sombra is clearly enjoying herself: she takes a deep breath through her nose (suddenly Symmetra is incredibly self-conscious about how she might smell) and lets it out in a long, indulgent moan.

Satya throws her head back, unable to keep herself quiet any longer. Her hand falls from her mouth and clenches in the fabric of the dress clinging to her sweat-damp chest. She gasps for air, suddenly unable to get enough in her lungs.

Sombra's nails dig into Symmetra's thighs, pulling her closer. She hums again, pressing the tip of her tongue against Symmetra's clit and flicking it once, twice, three times, again and again and again when Symmetra finally gives in and starts rocking her hips against it, desperate to get more of that sinfully delicious contact.

Symmetra is soon reduced to little more than a moaning, incomprehensible mess; yet somehow, she can't bring herself to hate it: Sombra's too good at this, too good at wrenching sensation and reaction from Symmetra, at destroying the carefully hewn well-put-together persona she so loves to flaunt.

Sombra is chaos. She's freedom, she's decadence, she's the very antithesis of restraint.

And Symmetra's control and order are powerless against her.

With one more deep hum and flick of the tongue from Sombra, Symmetra comes, suddenly and unexpectedly. The vibrations drive her right over the edge and she cries out, coming in bursts against Sombra's lips. She's only vaguely aware of how disgusting she must seem right now, but Sombra's tongue continues to stroke her clit, coaxing her through it and encouraging more. It can't be that bad, right? 

Eventually, her orgasm subsides, and Symmetra relaxes and untenses above Sombra. She's a little bit worried about smothering the other woman, but Sombra seems perfectly content to stay right where she is and lap up the last of Symmetra's juices. When she finally finishes, she shimmies out from under Symmetra and wipes her soaked, glistening lips and chin with the back of her hand.

"Not so uptight after all, are you?" Sombra teases. She reaches up with her dry hand and plays with the ends of Symmetra's hair, messy and all over the place. "You should let loose more often. I think like it."

Symmetra says nothing. She can't bring herself to admit that she thinks she likes it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).


	15. McCree/Sombra: Collaring [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #15 - [ McCree/Sombra: Collaring | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anonymous request for some McSombra for Kinktober Day 17: Collars. I experimented a bit with my approach here, so hopefully it pays off and feels a little more fresh.

“Is something bothering you, McCree?”

Genji states at him from across the table, head tilted to the side curiously. He’s noticed something, and it sets McCree on edge. But he tries not to make a show of it: he sighs and shrugs. He feels a subconscious urge to reach up and touch his neck, but at the last second he catches himself, changes course, and tugs at his serape instead. 

“Nope. Why do you ask?” He watches Genji for any signs of suspicion, but finds nothing in the expressionless mask that stares back at him, nothing to indicate what Genji’s seen or what he thinks he’s found out. Not for the first time, he curses that stupid mask.

Genji points to his own neck and prods it with the tip of his metallic finger. McCree’s stomach drops. “You keep touching your neck. Are you hurt?” 

McCree shakes his head, but he can’t shake his nerves. “Naw, nothing like that.”

“Hm.” Genji seems to think for a moment, then he leans forward conspiratorially. Not a good sign - McCree can practically see the shit-eating grin on his face. “Then perhaps a woman is involved? ...Or a man.”

McCree is careful not to react. Normally, he takes a lot of pride in his poker face, but he's known and worked with Genji for so long that it almost doesn't matter. Genji knows him almost as well as he knows himself, but still, McCree tries: he waves his hand and laughs, loud, like he's just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. “Come on now, don't go projectin’ on me! Just ‘cause you're thirsty as shit…”

“I think you are the one projecting on to me,” Genji retorts. “I left that life behind many years ago.” He reaches out and pats McCree's shoulder reassuringly. “Although, if you were hoping for a threesome, I might be willing to come back to it for one night…”

“Get outta here!” This time, McCree's laughter is genuine. He knows Genji isn't serious at all, and really, McCree is grateful for the playful banter. It's one of the things he’s missed most about Blackwatch - the days when they would just sit around taking the piss out of one another. It was comfortable. Felt like home.

They’re slowly starting to get that back with the new Overwatch. Or, at least, he and Genji are. 

McCree shoves Genji's hand off of him and gets an amused chuckle in response. “Fine, fine. I can see you do not wish to talk about it.” He pushes his chair out from the table and stands up, taking the tablet he had been reading before with him. “But the offer will remain open if you change your mind--” 

“I said get!” McCree picks up his crumpled napkin and throws it after a laughing Genji as he hastens out the door. When he's gone, McCree finally relaxes.

That was a close one. Genji had been dangerously close to figuring out what he was hiding. 

McCree reaches under his serape and hooks a finger under the leather strap around his neck. He tugs the collar, groaning at the feel of it against his skin. It's been on him since he came back from his last mission in Dorado, hidden under his serape as a private display of ownership. 

On the mission, he'd ‘just-so-happened’ to run into Sombra. As it often does with her, one thing had quickly led to another.

It started in the middle of a firefight. McCree really should have been there, but Sombra had been insistent. She'd grabbed his arm and dragged him into the quietest alleyway she could find, dropped her pants, and let him fuck her hard and fast her against the wall. It had to be fast out of necessity: too long and someone would come looking for them - or worse, come shooting. So they'd hurried, and it was only half-satisfying, really, but afterward Sombra had leaned up, bitten his ear, and told him to come find her later. 

He did. When he did, Sombra took him by the hand and led him through a maze of back alleys and side-streets until they'd reached a warehouse. It was nothing fancy, and not quite up to her usual standard (especially on home turf), but it was enough. 

Sombra had pulled McCree into her hideout and pinned him against the wall, pressing their lips together as her body pushed up against him. She had made quick work of his clothes, tossing them aside and pushing him to the bed as she stripped down to nothing, too. 

Sombra had thrown him down, crawled on top of him, and seated herself firmly on his cock. She rocked her hips expertly, leaving him helpless and moaning and completely at her mercy. But how could she not, when Sombra made such a habit of pulling everyone's strings? She knew exactly what she was doing, all the best ways to make McCree beg. 

Sombra rode him like it was the last time she would, making herself come on his cock over and over and over again. But she was careful to keep McCree right on the edge, holding him there until he whimpered her name, whispered “Sombra, please,” and made her come twice more. 

“Tell me who you belong to,” she had hissed against his lips. 

And McCree had answered her readily, so far gone he couldn't even think of fighting. “To you,” he'd said. “To Sombra - Sombra,  _ Sombra _ !”

Satisfied, she had finally let him come, clenching down hard around him and rolling her hips in just the right way. When he had finished - when  _ she _ had finished - Sombra had climbed off of him, calm and collected, and reached into a bag off to the side. 

That was when he saw the collar. 

McCree doesn’t remember much after that, just that she had leaned over, fastened the collar to his neck, and whispered, “For when you go back. I want everyone to know you're mine.”

He remembers kissing her after that, and hearing one last instruction hissed against his lips: “And don't even think about taking it off before I see you again.”

So he sits here now, days later, tugging at the leather collar and reminiscing. Whenever he touches it, whenever he thinks about it, he can't help but feel a wave of want come over him.  He feels like one of Pavlov’s goddamn dogs, drooling over the very thought of the next time he gets to see Sombra. The next time he gets to fuck her, pay her back for what she’s done to him. 

McCree groans and squeezes his eyes shut. He just hopes he doesn't have to wait too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	16. Ashe/McCree: Pining [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #16 - [ Ashe/McCree: Pining | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got an anon in my inbox saying _"McAshe would make for a really good pining fic! Like ash understood why McCree was leaving, to protect the gang. But she spent like 15 years pining for him. Then when Blackwatch fell she was so excited he could come back to her, but he never did. That was when she tore up the photo and became so bitter. But she hunts down McCree and when they're finally face to face she breaks down and admits all she ever wanted was for him to come back to her. Then cue happy ending I guess XD (reunion sex?)"_
> 
> I couldn't do a happy ending... I'm sorry! But I loved this ask so much I was immediately inspired to do something with it. I hope this is okay!

She waited a long time for him to come home.

Twelve years, in fact. Almost thirteen now. Twelve years since he’d been picked up and plucked from his home. From Deadlock. From  _her_. She knew where he was, what he was doing. Those Overwatch assholes may have been able to take him away from them, from his family, but they wouldn’t be able to break him. He was Deadlock, through and through. 

When she saw the headlines - the  _pictures_  - she knew. “Blackwatch Suspended,” right over a photo of Jesse McCree and the son of a bitch that took him from her. He was coming home. He had to, now he was out of a job.

But he never came. 

Two more years passed, and nothing. Not even a letter. She saw more headlines, sure: “Blackwatch Violates Suspension.” “Blackwatch Under Scrutiny After Complaint From Japanese Government.” “Morrison Under Fire: Blackwatch Still Active.” But they meant nothing to her. They were just a constant, bitter reminder that McCree hadn’t come home yet. That he  _couldn’t_  come home, she told herself. 

But then the explosion happened. Those sons of bitches got what was coming to ‘em - their HQ blew up and they were shut down for good. Overwatch, Blackwatch, the whole damn thing. He was free. He was coming  _home_. 

… But he didn’t.

McCree never showed up. Not a month after the explosion, and not a year. Ashe tore up the photo she had on her bike - just another reminder of what she’d had, and what she couldn’t keep. 

She wondered if he was dead more than once. But no - nearly two years after Overwatch went under, she caught sight of a brand-new wanted poster. And though his hair was overgrown and his beard untamed, there was no mistaking who it was on the poster. 

Ashe had torn the poster of McCree from the board it was pinned to, brought it home, and clutched it tight in one hand while the other furiously worked between her legs. 

When she was done, angry and spent and more frustrated than ever, Ashe set fire to the poster. It crumpled and crackled as it went up in flames, burning behind her as she kicked off on her bike and set off on the highway.

Jesse McCree was alive. And he was still out there.

And Ashe was tired of waiting.

So she did what she always did when she didn’t get her way: she took matters into her own hands. She worked tirelessly to track him down. She called in every favour she had. She ran Bob ragged. And finally, she found him. 

He was in a dinky little bar right on the border of Arizona and California, holed up in a corner booth wrapped in a serape with the brim of his stetson pulled low over his eyes. She could hardly see his face, but she’d know the cut of that jaw anywhere. She’d spent hours fantasizing about running her fingers along it, tracing over the rough beginnings of the beard he’d sworn he was gonna grow out. 

He must have heard her coming, because when she was a few feet from him McCree looked up, much more alert than the three empty glasses on the table would suggest. 

He stood up. She smirked. 

They found a cheap motel room. McCree said nothing, and Ashe didn’t trust herself to speak. She dragged him into the room and slammed him up against the wall, shoving herself onto him and pressing her lips to his. It was clumsier than she’d pictured, rougher and more desperate. But he tasted just as good, sweet whiskey lingering on his lips. 

They fucked fast. Impatient. Ashe had waited nearly two decades for this, and she wasn’t going to wait another minute. And McCree was just as rushed, just as frantic; he fucked up into her like he hadn’t been laid in months. Maybe he hadn’t. A good chunk of Ashe hoped he hadn’t - it’d serve him right for keeping her waiting. 

When they were done, they lay flat on their backs, naked and sweaty and cold above the sheets. They smoked: McCree a cheap cigar, Ashe her favourite brand of cigarette. 

“Come home with me,” she said. 

“Sure,” McCree said. His lips quirked up in a smile as he puffed on his cigar, but Ashe wouldn’t realize until later that he hadn’t been able to meet her eye. Not until the next morning, when McCree was already long gone. When Ashe was left to wake up alone in a cold, empty bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	17. Ashe/McCree: Kissing in the Rain [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #17 - [ Ashe/McCree: Kissing in the Rain | SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is actually based on art by [seehang](http://seehang.tumblr.com)! I saw [this image](http://seehang.tumblr.com/post/180736065250/a-farm-boy-trying-to-keep-his-gal-dry-just-like) and LOVED IT immediately, and got some quick inspiration to write something small. Please check the art out, it's beautiful! <3

“And just what do you think you’re doin’?” 

The rain had started out of nowhere, heavy and loud and ugly as all hell. Not ten minutes ago there hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky. What business did this storm have interrupting such a beautiful day, and when Ashe had business to attend to? 

It was annoying. Inconvenient. But nothing she couldn’t deal with. Not that she  _has_  to deal with it, now that suddenly the oppressive downpour’s been interrupted by McCree taking off his coat and shielding her from it.

“Couldn’t let my favourite girl get wet, could I?” McCree jokes, flashing his patented shit-eating grin down at Ashe, who simply raises an eyebrow at him. 

“And since when do you care about that?” 

“Since you spent so damn long doin’ your hair this morning. I ain’t about to wait through that again anytime soon.” 

Ashe rolls her eyes, scoffs at him. “You know that’s what we’ve got B.O.B. for, right?” 

“Yeah, but he ain’t here right now. Am I just gonna let you get wet while we wait for him to come on over with that fancy little umbrella of his for you?” 

Again, Ashe scoffs, but this time the beginning of a grin tugs at her lips. “Never had much of a problem with me gettin’ wet before, McCree.” 

“Yeah, well…” 

But before he can finish speaking, Ashe reaches across him to put a hand to the back of his neck. The look she gives him isn’t quite a smile, but it’s as close as she’s willing to get for now. Can’t let McCree know she’s actually  _touched_  by his unusually gentleman-like gesture. She starts to edge up close to him and pull his head down closer to her own. “Gotta say, I think I like the change of pace.”

Their lips meet. Ashe is anything but hesitant; McCree meets her readily, and they stand there together under McCree’s coat, the rain cascading down around them in torrents as they kiss. For the moment, though, it ceases to exist, and their world constricts and narrows itself to exclude everything but each other.

Just like it should be: the way Ashe likes it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	18. McCree/Sombra: Roleplaying/Interrogation [NSFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #18 - [ McCree/Sombra: Roleplaying/Interrogation | NSFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A "request" from Anon: "[...] i love the prompt roleplay - could you write something with young blackwatch mccree interrogating young los muertos sombra? ;)" 
> 
> I know this is really late, but I finally got it done...! Here you go, I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!
> 
> Note: Sombra is referred to as Olivia throughout this story because this is set before she creates the identity of "Sombra."

Los Muertos has been on Overwatch's radar for a long time now. Thriving in the aftermath of the Omnic Crisis in Mexico, they'd run rampant for years. A big concern for the global peacekeeping operation, yes, but the way things are, they're untouchable.

And that's where Blackwatch comes in.

Blackwatch has been running operations in Mexico for a while now. It’s all intel gathering, really – nothing too difficult. Especially since nearly all of Blackwatch’s intel with Los Muertos comes from one specific person.

McCree wasn't sure where Reyes had found this girl, but he did know that she knew how to spin a deal. She gave him as much non-essential information regarding Los Muertos as she could from the inside in return for Blackwatch's protection. If she hadn't come on Reyes's recommendation, McCree isn't sure he wouldn't have just put a bullet in her for her sheer audacity.

But she was helpful, he'd give her that. Not to mention hellishly attractive.

Olivia sits at a plain table in the middle of the room, hands folded together on its surface. She watches McCree with a smug smile as he paces back and forth.

"So let me get this straight," he says. "You're tellin' me you ain't got any intel for me?"

"Nothing," Olivia says. The way she's smiling gives her away, though, and McCree sighs, though he can't help the way his lips quirk up to match her grin.

"You sure about that?" he asks. She must have _something_. But if it's the same old song and dance as always that she wants (and he's certain it is), then he's happy to oblige.

McCree leans over the table, palms flat to it, and gets in her space, close enough he can see where the mascara clumps on her lashes. "'Cause I think you're lyin' to me, Liv."

"You think so?" Olivia leans forward, elbows on the table now and chin cushioned in her open palms. She smirks, devil-may-care.

"I know so."

"Ha." Olivia's breath comes out in a short burst through her nose. She leans back, folding her arms over her chest. McCree pretends to look at the paint on her arms, still glowing even in the dim light of this dingy little room. "So what are you gonna do about it?"

And there it is: that one sentence is all McCree needs to know the game has begun. He schools his expression, shifts it to something harder, and pulls his gun from its holster to place it on the table, firmly enough to threaten her. "Well, little lady, I think that's up to you."

Olivia's eyes slide down to the gun (moving along McCree's body on the way there), then back up to the cowboy's face. She purses her lips, but doesn't make any other moves. "What do you want to know?"

"There's a deal goin' down across the border in a few days. Time and location."

Olivia raises an eyebrow. She takes a long moment to think over her answer before speaking. "What makes you think I know that?"

"You know all their plans." McCree edges forward. He swings a leg over the side of the table and half-sits on its edge.

"Riiiight," Olivia rolls her eyes. "Maybe I should've been more clear. What makes you think I'd want to tell you?"

That makes McCree laugh. He reaches for the gun on the table and lifts it up so he can pretend to examine it. "I think you know the answer to that one, darlin'."

Olivia looks at the gun again. "Yeeeah, no."

Without missing a beat, McCree moves to press the gun under Olivia's chin. She meets his eyes evenly, clearly unimpressed.

"You wanna rethink that?"

Olivia laughs. "You won't shoot."

"No?"

"I'm too valuable."

McCree's lips twist into a grimace. Again, Olivia laughs. "You shoot, you lose your best - and _only_ \- informant."

"You think I can't get another? Someone smart enough not to mouth off with a gun to their head?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could," Olivia says. "But they won't treat you as good as I will."

A long moment passes between them. McCree watches Olivia, waiting for any sign of discomfort, for any cracks in her composure.

Nothing comes.

He waits a few seconds longer, then at last, lowers the gun. His stomach swoops at the sound of Olivia's mocking laughter. "Eres tan predecible."

McCree grunts. He re-holsters his gun and walks around the side of the table to sit next to Olivia. They meet each other’s eyes again for a moment, and then McCree finally grins again. "So it's gonna take somethin' a little sweeter than that to convince you, huh?" he mumbles. He reaches under Olivia's chin again, but this time instead of putting a gun to it, he cups it in one hand and strokes her bottom lip with his thumb. "I think I got just the thing."

She expects the kiss. She has to, seeing as she meets him halfway and opens her mouth not even a second after their lips meet. Olivia wraps her arms around McCree's neck and he pulls her up off her chair and into his lap. She straddles him with one leg on either side of McCree’s as his hands come to rest on the small of her back. McCree suddenly regrets the gloves, because now he can't feel the soft skin of her back beneath his palms.

Olivia grinds down eagerly on his already half-hard cock. McCree slides his hands down over the curve of her ass and under the jacket she has wrapped around her waist so he can tug her pants and panties down all in one go.

He slips a gloved finger between the folds of her pussy and Olivia groans. McCree rubs her gently; she shakes in his hold, muffling the sound of her moaning by burying her face in McCree's neck.

His finger comes away wet.

He laughs. With his clean hand, he reaches up, tangles his fingers in Olivia's bubblegum pink mohawk, and tugs her head away from his neck. "That didn't take long," he teases.

Olivia pouts. She doesn't answer; instead, she just reaches down and starts to unzip McCree's fly. She reaches into his pants unceremoniously, slips a hand into his boxers, and begins to pull at his cock and coax it to full erection.

When he's completely hard, McCree does the rest of the work himself: he undoes his belt properly and loosens his pants just enough that Olivia can pull his cock free. He grins up at her.

"Shut up," she says, and then plunges herself down onto his dick.

Olivia rides him like a bull. McCree doesn't need to grip her hips to coax her to thrust harder, but he does anyway, just because he knows she likes it when he's a little forceful - and, really, they're still in the middle of an "interrogation." He's got to make sure she remembers that.

So he fucks up into her roughly for a while, meeting her every thrust with one of his own, until her rhythm starts to stutter and falter - a sure sign she's close. McCree pulls Olivia off of him then and stands, giving her half a second to catch her breath before he bends her over the table and slams back into her.

"Ready to talk yet?" McCree asks, but he's thrusting into her so hard Olivia can't manage to choke out a proper answer. All she can do is scream and moan in response.

McCree thinks he likes it this way.

Olivia comes before he does. She comes all in one burst, gushing around McCree as he nears his own completion. He manages to pull out, but just barely: thick ropes of cum stand out in stark contrast to the glowing body paint on her back. Olivia’s always been pretty, but she's even prettier like this somehow.

He waits a moment before pulling out. Olivia cleans herself up on wobbling legs and takes deep breaths to steady herself while McCree waits patiently. When he's sure she's ready, he smiles at her.  "So, about that intel I need..."

Olivia sticks her tongue out at him. "You think that's enough to get me to talk? Please. You'll have to do better than that."

McCree grins. He plans to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com). Thanks!


	19. Mercy/Doomfist: Injuries [SFW]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #18 - [ Mercy/Doomfist: Injuries | SFW ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a request for some Mercy/Doomfist, and I wrote this as a quick warmup to something bigger. This is a very new and unexpected pair for me, haha. I hope you like it, though! It was a lot of fun to explore!

Mercy finds him under a collapsed building, bleeding from the head and in about five other places. The wounds aren't small, either; with the amount of blood he's already lost, even he knows it's a miracle he’s still standing, let alone lifting chunks of debris and rubble off his crushed leg.

For a moment, she watches him, and Akande can practically hear her debating with herself over whether she should help or just leave him here. He is the enemy, and also the cause of hundreds, if not thousands of deaths at the hand of Talon; but Angela Ziegler has a strict moral code, the main tenet of which is to help save the lives of any who may be in danger of losing them. There is no chance she will leave, even though he knows he will not die if she does.

Mercy flies in, staff already raised when Doomfist finally frees himself from the rubble. His leg is likely broken, but he can still put some weight on it.

“Sit down,” she tells him, no hint of kindness in her words. She’s all battlefield medic now, all urgency and determination. Doomfist raises a brow at her and allows himself a small smile before he does as she says. Normally, he would not hesitate to take down his enemy, but she is showing him some consideration, and it is not every day one gets to speak so plainly with Dr. Angela Ziegler.

He groans quietly as a healing stream connects with him and begins to work its magic on his body. He can feel the blood flowing from his wounds slow as the open flesh begins to knit itself back together.

“You are lucky to be alive,” Mercy says. Doomfist hums, almost laughing.

“It has nothing to do with luck,” he says. He doesn’t miss the way she rolls her eyes. But really, it doesn’t; there’s a reason Doomfist pushes himself so hard in training, and it isn’t just the fun of a good fight.

He watches as one of the deep gashes on his arm, caused by a stray piece of shrapnel flying at him, closes up. “I could say the same for you. You’ve risked a lot coming to the aid of your enemy.”

Mercy purses her lips. “I’m beginning to question why I did.”

Akande smiles. “You are no opportunist. You are a good woman, Dr. Ziegler. If you see someone in pain, you drop everything to help them. Perhaps foolishly. One of these days, it might get you killed.”

She meets his gaze as evenly as she can, but the twitching of her knitted brows gives away how nervous his words have made her. Still, she continues to heal him. Doomfist laughs and leans back against the wall, the cool concrete soothing on his newly-mended wounds. “Not today, of course,” he says, one part reassurance and one part gratitude. “What sort of man would I be if I killed you after you saved my life?”

“The kind of man we expect,” she retorts.

“Then you - and Overwatch - are wrong.”

They fall into silence after that. Mercy’s eyes flit over Akande as she holds her staff steady, no doubt assessing the damage beyond her ability to heal; and Akande watches Mercy, admiring the way the soft golden glow of her healing stream highlights her features and reflects off the headgear she wears. It’s even more reminiscent of a halo now.

Akande has never been one to indulge himself with anything, really, and especially not women. Still, he can admit when a woman is attractive. Angela Ziegler is beautiful right now, brows knitted in concentration, bright sunlight behind her, artificial healing light in front. Her suit is scuffed and stained from the battle they are still, technically, in the middle of, but somehow that just adds to the appeal. It makes her look scrappy, every bit the fighter she really is deep down.

He will not say anything. Akande is content to simply enjoy the view a moment before he must get back to work.

He’s snapped from his musings when he sees Dr. Ziegler’s lips move, hears her speak in that professionally practiced tone: “It looks as if the bleeding has stopped completely.”

“Good.” Akande shifts, examining the spots on his body where his injuries were visible. They are no longer there - every last trace of the building falling on him, of bullets nicking his skin, is gone. He smiles and lets out a pleased puff of air through his nose. “Amazing. I had heard of your skill, but witnessing it firsthand… I must say I am impressed.”

“Hmph.” Mercy doesn’t dignify his compliment with her words, but even she can’t stop herself from smiling just the slightest bit. The glow of pride on her face is even more becoming of her than the golden glow of her staff.

Akande tilts his head to the side and studies her a moment, curious. “You know,” he begins, “Your talents would be of great use in Talon…”

Mercy rolls her eyes. “Save your breath, Akande. You were near death a moment ago, so I should think you’d find it too valuable to speak nonsense.”

Akande laughs. It was worth a try.

There are no more words between them until Mercy finishes healing him and cuts off the stream. Akande stands, rolling his shoulders and neck. He feels good. A little stiff from sitting on the hard ground, but good. His leg still hurts, but he thinks he can still fight on it.

“Thank you, Dr. Ziegler,” he says. Akande takes two steps toward her and takes her hand in his. He lifts it to his lips and kisses the back of Mercy’s knuckles before letting it go again. “If you ever decide to reconsider your position… my offer will always be open.”

“Go,” Mercy says. She does not smile at him; she either did not recognize Akande’s offer as a joke, or she doesn’t find it funny. The result is the same regardless.

The corner of Doomfist’s lip quirks up into a smirk. “Very well. Goodbye, Dr. Ziegler. When next we meet, it will once again be as enemies.”

He does not look back as he runs off, nor does she look him in the eye the next time they meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com). Thanks!

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to make a request, please check my [writing blog](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com) and submit there (though I can't guarantee I'll be able to do everything!). I also post WIPs and snippets/progress/previews of other things I'm working on!
> 
> If you enjoyed this and are interested in seeing more or even just having a chat, feel free to contact and/or follow me on twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r), my [personal tumblr](http://therealhousewivesofhyrule.tumblr.com/), or if you're just interested in my Overwatch stuff then at my [Overwatch sideblog](http://naptimefornaughtyrobots.tumblr.com/).
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and supporting me. ♥


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